Los Angeles Herald - Sunday, April 7, 1895
This report was originally published in English. Machine translations may be available in other languages.
A CULMINATING HORROR
The Marquis of Queensberry, who has so thoroughly unmasked Oscar Wilde, is one of the most eccentric of British peers.
For refusing to take the oath of conformity he has been refused his seat in the house of lords; indeed, he is so strong an atheist that on the occasion of the production of a play at the Globe theatre in London, where in one of the characters is made to proclaim his belief in a Creator, he worked himself into a frenzy, denouncing the Christian religion and only subsiding on being forcibly ejected.
The whole family has been a notedly eccentric one. The brother of the present Marquis, Lord James Douglas, was found dead under circumstances that led irresistibly to the belief that he had committed suicide, and lately the eldest son of the Marquis, Lord Drumlanrig, was found dead under similar circumstances, and it would have been greatly to the credit of Lord Alfred Douglas had he followed in the same road rather than have lived to share the infamy of Oscar Wilde. Lady Florence Dixie, a sister of Lord Alfred, is the divorced wife of Sir Beaumont Dixie, the busted racehorse plunger who cut such a figure in racing circles a few years ago, and is the young person who in 1890 got up the awful fake story of having been attacked by Fenians disguised as women, who were finally driven off by her Newfoundland dog.
Wilde is the son of Sir William Wilde, the great antiquarian, and of Lady Wilde, who under the nom de plume of Speranza did, perhaps, more to stir the Irish nation to revolt in 1848 than any other person who figured in that gallant but abortive effort.
A study of the history and surroundings of the two chief characters in this latest and most horrible of nineteenth century scandals would almost lead one to the belief that there is possibly a great deal of truth in the theory of professor Max Nordeau regarding the degeneracy of the present generation. London has certainly furnished the two champion horrors of the latter part of this century - Jack the Ripper and Oscar Wilde.